


What's the matter?

by Salf



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Nobody is Dead, Role Reversal, The Ark is fine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-10 14:10:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4394873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salf/pseuds/Salf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life was never easy for Clarke, but at least she knew where she stood. Then her adoptive sister Octavia's family roots became clear, the rationing in Walden reaches dangerous levels, and an acknowledged and mutual hatred between herself and Bellamy Blake becomes less certain.</p><p>Or Clarke's life falls to pieces around her, and she's not sure she'll make it through the next year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is quite different to anything else I've done, so we'll see how it goes! Quick background - Clarke and Bellamy have effectively switched roles in the Arks social and economic heirachy. Constructive criticism would be very much appreciated - it's definitely needed!! Thank you

Clarke winced as the sound of metal scraping against metal pierced her ears, shooting through her head and adding to the already significant headache. Pushing the food around her plate listlessly she sighed, offering it up to Octavia who, after an initial reluctance, crammed it down as if she had no idea when food would next be available to her. Clarke didn’t blame her, she felt the same way half the time. Drowning in uncertainty.

Next week would be the ten year anniversary of her fathers death. In everyday life, the Griffins, Clarke in particular, tried not to think about it. Remembering the injustice of it all left a coppery taste in her mouth, not disimilar to the blood the guards had forced her and O to wipe off the floor. It had been years, but she swore to herself that if she had ever returned to the old apartment it would still be there, engrained into the cracks between the steel panels, the only tomb Jake Griffin would ever know. 

She hissed under her breath as Octavia nudged her, elbows sharp, muttering “Blake” as she did. What must have been at least a hundred pairs of narrowed eyes followed the men walking into the mess hall, a tall floppy haired boy who stepped as if trying to avoid touching the metal beneath him, and a statuesque, broad shouldered boy, whose eyes flicked across the room in a calculated manner, assessing the environment for danger as the room fell silent.

Floppy had the manners to look uncomfortable at least. Freckles face was almost worse than emotionless. It was uncaring. As if no one in the room was worthy of a passing thought. Before Wells had died, another tragic death in a series of accidental air flow malfunctions - which seemed to be limited to Walden, Clarke had been an avid watcher of the nature documentaries they showed the kindergarden phoenix kids. Wells had traded in a week’s worth of rations to buy a duplicate security card off Jasper so they could sneak onto the balcony, like the birds they watched, silent, absorbed but precautious. Clarke theorised that if Octavia was like the cat on the documentary, the one with remarkably similar eyes, her hackles would be raised at the presence of a Blake. She stifled a chuckle as she imagined O spitting hairballs, absentmindedly wondering what had happened to the key card.

O nudged Clarke again, pulling her back out of her haze. O’s hair was pulled back particularly tight today, the harsh fluorescent light doing little to soften her features, the planes of her face only broken by angular cheekbones and shadows. Clarke had always thought that O looked almost full to bursting with life, too large for the tin can she was trapped in. Almost as if, if she really wanted to, she could burst out of her small apartment and into the velvety darkness that enveloped them. O’s hands were making small, pointed movements, translating her thoughts into the language they had created way back when they were little and had to be silent.

_Blake. He’s not here on vacation._

Clarke snorted at the thought of the bratty Phoenix kid in a multicoloured sombrero. The Blake turned slightly almost as if he had heard before swinging back around and speaking in hushed tones to Collins. She had often swore at the shampoo rationing, but just looking at his hair made her wonder how there was any left at all. She switched her attention back to O, moving her fingers in swift, complicated patterns.

**I wish he’d take one. Then maybe he’d stop being such a stuck up, self absorbed dick like the rest of his station.**

O rolled her eyes before making a quick slicing movement - _language_ \- and investing her attention in the intruders, who had started to speak.

The Blake spoke slowly and condescendingly, as if he was addressing a group of toddlers. He listed products that were to be newly rationed, and indicated that electricity was to be cut off in Walden at random times in order to ‘save energy’. A middle aged man towards the back of the hall shouted something along the lines of “does Phoenix have any rationing in place”, and Clarke felt the atmosphere in the hall darken as Collins explained, apparently with a trained political speech that it was much more necessary for Pheonixians to maintain electricity and food as, and this was the cutter, ‘their work required it’. Clarke visualised O and herself stitching late into the night without light, and wondered why it was so important for those who spent their days immobile to have that last piece of cake when the combined work of her mother, herself, and O was not enough to ensure that they would receive two meals a day, let alone three.

The mood of the room had grown increasingly tense, something the intruders were clearly unaware of as Blake waxed on about the necessity of sticking to these rules for the benefit of the greater population. The room was silent as the pair asked for questions, and Blake’s lips lifted in a smug, self serving smile. 

Blake’s smile dropped as he made eye contact with Clarke, who realised her arm was raised. The hundreds of pairs of eyes that had perviously been directed at the pair were focused on Clarke, although admittedly now with an aura of support. 

“You say that this is for the benefit of all, but how do you justify cutting off electricity and even water to the Walden medical centre when only last month you contracted ten Walden labourers - who are still unpaid by the way - to convert the apartment next to yours into a swimming pool for your corridor?”

Blake’s cheeks tightened and Collins blushed - this was clearly something that they hadn’t wanted to get out. His eyes stood steady on Clarke as the angry whispers started up, and she had the sense that not only was he losing control, she’d started something that could quickly escalate.

Still the boys remained silent. Octavia cocked her head, her voice ringing clear and loud, cutting through the background nose that was rapidly rising.

“You gonna answer that, pretty boy?”

Blakes nostrils flared, and it seemed as if his restraint had snapped.

“There’s a reason none of you are in positions of power.”

His eyes flickered around the room, scanning the furniture, battered through years of continuous use, and attire of the citizens, dressed in thin and worn clothing, that was always tinged slightly grey no matter the amount of scrubbing.

“You can’t even take care of yourselves and your surroundings. You live like animals.”

He almost barked the last words, and Clarke wondered whether he was aware of the massive mistake he had made. He was surrounded by Waldenites on all sides, many of whom had suffered personally due to restrictions he had enforced, and many of whom who would have easily progressed on advanced courses such as physics and medicine had they been given the opportunity to do so. It was a room full of hungry people who had been trodden on their entire lives by those in Pheonix and he’d not only provoked them, but openly antagonised them. The Waldenites may not live like animals, but they were a pack. And a pack protects its own.

 

———

 

It was a week after the mob that had sent thirty Waldenites to the medical centre after the guards with their electric shock batons stepped in, and Clarke was concerned by how quiet it was. Not a whisper against the Phoenicians had been heard in days. Something big was coming. By the way Abby was pacing around the room, stitching into a frayed pair of pyjamas with pent up aggression, she wasn’t the only one to think so. Abby muttered under her breath the danger of such things, and Clarke couldn’t help but ask if a ‘revolution’ as such would be so bad. Abby gains a haunted look in her eyes and stares determinedly at the floor, fingers twitching.

“You weren’t there for the last one”.

Clarke wonders whether Abby had been truly broken by the events because she knows that despite her mother’s comment, she had been present the last time the station had been plunged into civil war. She knows this because that is the day she had gained a sister.

Jake had parroted the story repeatedly when they were little, waiting until Abby had gone to ensure she didn’t try to “sanitize” the truth. Clarke knows very little about the politics and events of that year, only of the way that baby Doe became Octavia Griffin.

It had been a particularly rough month, rebellers if caught were often floated, and even whispers against the council could land you in front of a judge. Jake’s unit had been mobilised the night before, and the head of the squad, Terry Doe, had been floated that morning after he had been caught rifling though council papers. Jake had walked down Terry’s corridor to collect his belongings, only to hear a muffled snuffling sound. After prying up the floorboards and carrying the wriggling bundle to Abby - to whom he presented her with the reverence of a boy who had done something naughty that he couldn’t help but be proud of - Abby had cooed. Post explanation, Abby had developed a somewhat stubborn look and rocked Octavia, asking her what her name was. Her mouth puckered in the shape of an O as if she was trying to speak, and the Griffins had promptly named her Octavia. 

It wasn’t quite that easy to make O an official part of the family though. O was not only unregistered, but she was likely the daughter of an executed rebel leader. The Griffins had dreaded to think what could happen to her should the Council find out. Fortunately, Walden was rarely inspected, left to its own devices, and so the couple decided to “informally adopt” O, within five minutes of making her acquaintance. This was fortunate because approximately six minutes after O first appeared, Abby went into labour and Clarke was born. They grew up as blood, because they were. O was loved as if she was born as Clarke was, and she loved in return, as did all of Walden who knew who she was and still vowed to protect her - to such an extent that until O’s seventh birthday she was unknown to the council. The security had undone them in the end. Griffins O and C had been playing in the corridor when a Phoenician had been scaring kids by requesting spot checks. Years of secrets and safety were undone in under a minute. Jake had been killed upon apprehension, and Abby had sworn that Jake had had an affair with a woman long since floated years ago, producing Octavia. She had raised O as her own, feigning ignorance at the fact O was not registered. The council had decided that due to the death of Jake, Octavia required no punishment and she was finally, officially recognised as a registered Griffin. The promise of no punishment didn’t stop the Griffins being evicted from their clean, tidy apartment for ‘space reasons’ and being transferred into a dank and unused flat.

Clarke unpicks her last three stitches, pulling the thread tighter this time, watching it fray under force applied, thread taut between her fingertips. The door slams behind Octavia as she wanders in, and Clarke’s hand slips, tugging too hard. The thread snaps and Clarke watches her work unravel.

 

———

 

Green light washes over Clarke’s face as she makes her biweekly trip to Mecha Station. Echoes follow her footsteps down the key carded corridor that separates the two stations. Clarke likes the Mechians. In general, they’re more privileged than the Waldenites, with less rationing and higher education, but they’re friendly - willing to share both food and knowledge with their little sibling station. In fact, this is where Jasper, the key card duplicator,  lives with his roommate Monty. Jasper had become infatuated with O during her first party on Mecha and despite the sickening gooey eyes Jas had perfected , the four became fast friends, later initiating Wells into their circle, as well as a sarcastic but incredibly loyal asshole named Murphy, a badass mechanic named Raven, and upon occasion, Miller, Harper and even Fox. 

Clarke’s walking into Harpers room to collect laundry - she is often reminded of an old comedy show called friends, as none of them ever lock their doors - to find a hulking figure standing by the bed. Blake. Reversing out the room her escape route is cut off by Blake gesturing her closer and reaching over her shoulder to close the door behind her. Her mouth sets in a grim line as he speaks, sealing any emotions inside.

Blake starts talking.

“Clarke, I believe we need to discuss your behaviour last week. Harper won’t be back for a while. I personally hoped to throw you in the skybox and toss the metaphorical key out of the air lock, but luckily for you, Kane thinks that doing so would only serve to further rile up _Walden_.”

He says the name like it’s a dirty word, curling his lip around it in disgust. It’s clear he means to be threatening Clarke’s face remains blank.

 

“Griffin.”

Blake pauses, shock colouring his face. This is perhaps the first time someone has not reacted to his threats.

“Excuse me?”

Clarke swallows thickly before steadying her voice.

“My friends call me Clarke. Call me Griffin.”

 

What looks like it could be a hint of embarrassment slides over Blakes face, but it’s gone as soon as it appears, the pink dots on his cheeks attributed to anger rather than shame or embarrassment.  Blake pushes his way past Clarke, disappearing down the hall so rapidly that if wasn’t for the faint impressions of a figure on the bed, Clarke’s not sure she would have registered his visit at all. 

It’s dinnertime when his name comes up again, Octavia talking while inexplicably somehow still chewing her carrot substitute. 

“Monty said he saw Blake storming out of Mecha today. I’m pretty sure he’s never been in there once, always avoided it. Something big must be going down if he’s made his way there.”

Clarke feels slightly nauseous.

O slips in and out of sign language, chewing too vigorously now to be understandable. 

_It’s just strange Clarke. He’s either there for a girl, and if he’s going to those lengths she must be pretty special. Or, war is coming._

Clarke doesn’t appreciate either option. It is however perhaps concerning that out of those two options, war is infinitely preferable.


	2. Time goes by

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late late update! This is as yet unchecked, but hopefully better than the prior chapter. I hope you enjoy! (Oh and constructive criticism is very much needed and would be very much appreciated!) Thank you

It would be over a month until Clarke saw Blake again. Life continued on as normal, routines as steady as the constant hum of electricity in the walls. That wasn’t to say discontent wasn’t building in her station. Whispered rumours were spreading throughout cramped apartments, even Mecha felt on edge during her biweekly visits.

Octavia had had successfully passed a course in Agricultural Maintenance only the week before, and Clarke’s stomach rumbled when she thought back to the rare set of three apples O had been presented with. Although officially all courses were open to Waldenites, in reality it was impossible to attain a place at one of the more advanced courses which Clarke knew O could do so well at. Agricultural Maintenance was a step up though, and the Griffin’s couldn't have been any prouder, Abby even reaching into the back of a disused cupboard to pour out a lid full of the Griffin Heirloom Whiskey for the three. O had snuck Clarke onto the harvest fields a few times before, but it would be different now that she was officially in Agri. Clarke was once again torn between joy, and sadness that she was losing her as a partner in her own job. Loathe to admit it however, Clarke couldn’t help but be jealous, smile quivering at the corners slightly as she watched O practically skip to work. Advanced medicine placements were only ever given to Phoenicians and the occasional Mechian, meaning that Clarke’s medical training came through constant practice and a ravenous, insatiable desire to watch any medical video she could get her hands on. 

The Walden meeting had started at 9, well after the end of the working day to ensure the highest attendance possible. Luke, an attractive teenager, with a strong jawline and playful eyes, was sorting the Waldenites into their career groups, organising their union meetings. Clarke’s shoulders slumped slightly as O was directed to the South end of the room, and Luke loomed over her, smiling sympathetically. Clarke appreciated the effort he made when he pointed out the benefits of her appointment, that training in any field could be a gateway to better opportunities for the station, but she had long since zoned out, barely realising what she was doing until she had already waved and walked out of the hall. 

Clarke was rounding the corner when she saw him. A hunched over figure, using the wall to support himself as he struggled to the end of the corridor. Securing her laundry basket under the crook of her arm, she hurried to the skulker, and placing a hand on his shoulder in concern. It was difficult to treat injured Waldenites due to the lack of medical supplies, there were multiple cases of deaths from what should have been treatable illnesses. Clarke had always tried to distribute her own state distributed vitamin tablets among the children of Walden, but there were never quite enough to ensure that every child got what was needed. The man lifted his head, and Clarke withdrew her hand in shock, barely resisting the urge to wipe her hand on her apron, fingers twitching at her side. Blake. His mouth hung open slightly.

“They can’t find me here, I..”. His voice trailed off.

Clarke’s eyes roved up and down assessing his injuries until the sound of voices emanated from down the hall. Making a split second decision she knew she’d regret, she hooked her arm in his and tugged him along, weaving through the maze of empty corridors back to her apartment.

Pushing him onto the sofa, she rummaged in her basket for her strongest thread, and the sharpest needle she could find. She heard a slightly incredulous voice from his direction.

“You live here?”

Her head whipped around staring him down.

“I didn’t mean, I guess I just, what I meant was..”

Clarke cut him off, voice icy as she tugged his shirt up, crouching in front of him to inspect the wound.

“I know exactly what you meant”

They sat in silence, Blake cringing every so often as she sighed, using up her salt ration to sterilise the wound. Eventually, curiosity overcame her indigence, and she questioned the older boy. His eyes were remarkably familiar this close up.

“Walden is a threat. We all know it, but Kane is too stubborn to admit it, so I decided to disguise myself and go to one of your meetings, get in the minds of dissenters.”

He sounded almost guilty at this point.

“I didn’t realise how bad it was. How much you were affected.” Clarke wordlessly lifted the hem of her shirt, revealing a deep scar that would have been invisible with even one coating of the skin regeneration spray that was so easily accessible on Pheonix. She couldn’t help but be angry at the intrusion. The meetings were the safe place of the station, the one place they could speak freely without being judged or censored. It was were they had set up their own “council”, redistributing their scarce supplies to those who really needed it, enforcing their own justice system that was fairer on criminals and miscreants than the Ark wide system which largely floated Waldenites for crimes that Phoenicians would be hard pressed to even be arrested for. The idea that this had been almost tainted made her stomach turn. Suddenly Blakes injury made more sense.

“I was leaving when a boy spotted me. He got me before I knew what had happened. I’d report him but that would only cause trouble on my end.”  
Clarke tied a knot at the end of her stitches, instructing him to ration his own salt supply to keep the wound sanitised.

“It’s fine. I’ll just snag a couple of packets of anti bacterials.”

Clarke’s jaw tightened, as Blake asked for a “cup or so” of salt.

“There isn’t any left”

Blake laughed.

“Please. How much did you use? Like half a cup tops.”

Clarke wondered whether Blake had really listened at all to the speeches at the meeting, choosing not to mention that that half a cup had been a months supply. Silently she ushered him out the door, watching coldly as he spun around outside the apartment, sticking a hand outright.

“Thanks. You can call me Bellamy.”

She gazed at the outstretched hand, giving a sharp nod.

“Blake”.

The door slammed shut behind her.

——————

Tiredly, Clarke wiped her hands down with a damp piece of cloth, inspecting the room for things that could be reused and appropriated, and trying to ignore the fact that most of it could not. There had been an influx of knocks on her door all day, it seemed in the space of twelve hours, a war had truly begun, with a whole group of masked waldenites attacking a group of guards who were attempting to remove yet more supplies from the sad looking stock rooms. Clarke had apparently been assigned the position of station medic, and although she condoned the reckless behaviour, she couldn’t help but be pleased that she could help the change in some small way. It was Raven that caused her to jump as she was sterilising the blunted needles, almost catching her fingers on the end of one.

“Alright Clarke? Murph’s looking for you.”

Fussing with equipment, her back was turned from her best friend, packing bandages into packets that would be hidden in the walls, lest there was an unexpected inspection. 

“Was he hurt? I told him not to go near Hans, he always winds him up.”

Raven picked at the hem of her shirt, before being chastised by Octavia who had just swept into the room, holding a overflowing basket of clothing. O settled in the corner, legs crossed, chin in the palms of her hands before beginning a debate with Raven about the theoretical benefits of cats vs dogs. Raven, rather unsurprisingly given her namesake, had sided with the dogs, whereas O had seemingly developed a fondness for the idea of having kittens to play with.

Avoiding the heated argument, Clarke interjected, offering a quick goodbye before heading out into the corriddors to find Murphy. He was tidying up in the education center by the time she found him, placing old board games back into a large metal chest in the corner of the room. The corner of his mouth lifted up in a smile as he spotted her walk in.

“Doc. How’s it going”

He crossed the room quickly, long limbs navigating quickly through discarded toys, before picking her up in a monster hug. Clarke smiled, clutching him back, for perhaps longer than could be purely regarded as platonic. Murphy pulled back, a slight blush on his cheeks as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Clarke jumped up onto one of the tables, crossed legs swinging slightly as she recounted her day. Concern passed over his face as Clarke mentioned Blake, and she couldn’t help but notice the flicker of anger in his eyes, regretting mentioning the encounter at all as she remembered how Aurora Blake had been responsible for his father’s troubles.

Aurora, much like her son, had the unfortunate habit of treating men on the ship as her toys, relish ing in seducing the lonely and destitute, and tearing apart the families as soon as she became bored. Murphy’s father had been one of the few who had been brave enough, some would say foolish, to resist her amorous advances. He’d lost his job only days later. Without a job, there were not enough ration tickets for the family, and within a year, Alex Murphy had been detained for theft and floated. Clarke had always thought Aurora’s mind had been warped by her first husband, the whole ship had known he was abusive, but there was little sympathy left for her after the events her addled and bitter mind had caused. It was clear she broken but she had only ever had kind words for the women on board.

Pulled out of her thoughts, Murphy is fiddling with his fingers, playing with his fathers slim silver wedding band, that rests on his right hand. 

“Do you think if I apply I have a shot. Of getting to teach here?”

Clarke clutches his hands. 

“Murph, I think you’re the most talented teacher on all of the Ark, and if they don’t let you teach here, they’re goddam insane.”

Murphy clutches back, face blushing as he rubs his thumb along her own. Clarke blushes herself, distracted by the sensation of his hands against her’s, surprisingly intimate. Murphy lifts her head up and kisses her and it’s like nothing she’s ever known. She feels loved, so very loved and its so different from anything she’s ever experienced before, from Todd when she was fourteen to Bella at seventeen and everyone in-between. Her eyes flutter shut and she can barely kiss him back with both of them grinning so widely, laughing in-between quick pecks as he pulls back to kiss her on the nose before resting his forehead against hers. She breathes out, muttering a quick wow, before pulling him back to her. Raven and O bust in ten minutes later, interrupting them both, Clarke now backed up against the wall.

“Good lord Clarke, the children!”

Clarke ducks her head, embarrassed but grinning, as Murphy flips her around, cradling her to his chest.

O simply grins back at her, raining congratulations and I told you so’s over the two as they all walk to Mecha to catch up with the rest of the group.

——————-

Five months later, and they’ve all fallen once again into routine. The trouble that Abby had been so worried about now seems non existent, and Clarke hasn’t seen Bellamy since a night two months ago where he had bumped into her outside the Pheonix laundry rooms. Clarke had listened politely as he thanked her for the medical help before, and had apologised for his rudeness, but truthfully she had felt so uncomfortable there she had excused herself and practically sprinted away as soon as she turned the corner, lest he decide he had more to say.

Raven had passed the first three modules of the engineering course and was rapidly on her way to becoming the ‘Youngest Mechanic in 52 years” as she loved to remind the group. Miller had finally plucked up the courage to ask out Monty, and both were in nervous anticipation of their first date. Wells was for lack of a better word - still Well’s, although perhaps more mischievous as was spending a lot more time with Jasper now Monty spent all his spare time with Miller. Octavia suspected that Well’s was responsible for the key cards that mysteriously kept showing up in their bags, but he continued to feign, or maybe not, ignorance at their existence. 

Murphy had got the teaching job, and as well as being adored by Abby, was now adored by thirty tiny six year olds often resembling a climbing frame when Clarke went to visit him at the end of the school day. And Clarke - well Clarke had never been happier. Jackson, a junior doctor in Mecha, had agreed to give her informal (and illegal) medical training, and with O’s rotation back to the East side of Walden, Clarke saw her more than ever. Murphy and Clarke had quickly fallen into a relationship, Clarke snuggled into his lap on movie night, and chastising him when he left a mess in her apartment. They had even made a deal, that if they were still this happy in a year, they would apply for a joint apartment. It was fast, but it was right. She felt fulfilled for once. 

That was until she attended a group game of ‘Do eye know you?’. The game was simple. Using the photos from ID cards, of everyone who had been in her school year and the two above, Link from the year above her, cropped the photos to leave only the eyes. All three years would gather in the largest empty room they could find guess the owner of said eyes, and win prizes for the most points scored.

With her group lounging on mattresses they had dragged from their rooms, the game started off well. Monty and gone crimson as Miller instantly recognised his eyes, and Raven had correctly identified both her ex - Finn, Jasper - who had been gifted with a black eye the day of the photo taking, and Fox. Murphy and Clarke had both easily shouted out each other’s names and even Jasper who was notorious for poor memory had rapidly identified a girl named Maya’s eyes, causing wolf whistles across the room. It was only when a pair of well known eyes appeared on the screen and Clarke confidently shouted Octavia, that things went downhill. The screen blinked to reveal, not O, but a someone who Clarke had hoped never to deal with again. Blake. Blake who was smug. Blake who was selfish. Blake who was from Phoenix. Blake who had identical eyes to her sister.

Link quickly flicked onto the next image, and the silence that had filled the room ceased, but not before O and Clarke traded confused glances. 

In the hours after, they both elected to ignore it, but it had caused a niggling thought in her brain, a buzzing like wasps, that no matter what she did, refused to go away.


End file.
